


King and he

by cyus (cruentum)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bottom!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll have you in the stocks," Arthur said, voice hoarse, but he didn't move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King and he

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on LJ 07/12/2010

There was dawn and there was pissing rain in the middle of the coldest season, when the air couldn't quite decide on freezing and hail burned your skin and then turned the ground to half frozen mud. Gwaine was shit with dawn when it didn't have him climb out of some warm bed to escape with a last stolen affection, the door pulled softly into the lock, getting dressed in the corridor; he was worse with the forces of nature pissing on his temper. When Arthur came chasing into the knights' quarters, stripped the duvet off Gwaine's body like he was a child and shouted at him to get fitted up and meet him outside right that moment then stormed out, his mood had reached a new low before the day had even started.

"Not nice," Percival muttered, the rumble low in his chest as his fingers trailed a last low line just above Gwaine's arse, eyes half-closed still.

Gwaine, sitting up and eyes crusted from sleep, crotch crusty from sex, managed a half-hearted rude gesture in Percival's direction but Percival had already turned over and pulled the duvet with him for more shut-eye. Gwaine stumbled around his quarters, over Percival's boots of massive and his own clothes making a mess of the room because the concept of a room of his own still eluded him and might be the reason why someone shared his bed more nights than not.

The princeling could wait while Gwaine ran a cloth over his face, crotch and arse, giving his chest a half-hearted scrub. He slipped into tunic and trousers and ran a hand through his hair, looking about the room for something else to take. The room was cold, the fire not stoked, and Percival grunted in his sleep, hips twitching for sex. That could be his. Instead Gwaine turned a slow circle as he located one boot stuffed into the corner with the red cloak, the other by the door. He was still pulling it on as he stumbled out the door and into the sparsely lit corridor.

The sound of a sword on metal rang loud as Gwaine stepped from the corridors to the outside yard. A heavy wind flattened his tunic to his body, pelting rain at him, and his mood dropped another few notches when Arthur, kitted out in mail and sword turned towards him and pointed his sword at a heap of chainmail and a sword on the muddy ground, not bothering to use his voice.

Gwaine leaned against the stone arch he was standing under, raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Dawn had crept up the horizon, already painting the morning a dark grey through thick clouds.

"Some of us enjoy our hours of sleep," Gwaine called out, toeing at the mud.

Arthur's face twitched. He stalked over to the heap of wet metal, picked it up with jerky movements, stalked to Gwaine and dropped it Gwaine's feet. Up close his eyes were wild and red and deep in their sockets from lack of rest. "Put this on," Arthur ground out. His hair was flattened to his skull, dripping rain down the sides of his face flushed from possibly hours of exertion. "Put it on and pick up the sword."

"Why, if I may-"

Arthur pushed closer, breath warm as it fanned out over Gwaine's mouth and nose, body pressing Gwaine to the wall. "Because I'm your prince," he spit out, rocking against Gwaine's body with another push, lips close enough to bite and chew on and own. A shudder ran through Arthur's body, and the dark smudges under his eyes made him look half-dead.

Gwaine dared another look at the weather outside, opened his mouth for a well-placed protest but Arthur's leg hooked around his, arm pulling his around by the shoulder and forcing it up behind Gwaine as he pushed Gwaine to his knees. "Because I say so," Arthur hissed into Gwaine's ear. Water that sluiced into the doorway pooled around Gwaine's knees and soaked into his trousers cold and wet. Knighthood, all it was cracked up to be then, serve the madman and earn no thanks. Arthur's breath came in gaspy huffs.

Gwaine shook him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest then cornered him against a wall himself, positions reversed, pressing tighter than Arthur had. "Dying to get your arse handed to you?" he pushed out between tight lips, eyes narrowed, and Arthur's face flooded with colour, eyes tightening as he pushed against Gwaine's hold. It had been three full moons since they'd taken back Camelot, and Gwaine had only seen Arthur holding court or in the yard running routines. He grappled at Gwaine's arms, looking for purchase. "That desperate for someone to cut you down? No problem there, then, _sire_ ," Gwaine said and let go, leaving Arthur to nearly pitch forward. He picked up the chainmail and slid it over his chest, the wet metal soaking his thin tunic within moments as he stepped out on the field and picked up the sword Arthur had left in the middle of it.

"You honestly think you could beat me?" Arthur called, giving a laugh. "Honestly?" His voice echoed off the walls, catching in rasps on the high notes. The sword in his outstretched arm wavered.

Gwaine's arse was still leaking come into his trousers from a very warm, very nice night, so he only lifted his sword and spared the useless words, waited, as the rain came down hard and Arthur stepped forward, pointing his sword ahead of him. "You're still just a kid, aren't you?" Gwaine called when Arthur was close enough. "Looking for Father to turn you over his knee? Too bad he-"

Arthur charged at him and Gwaine parried the first blow, half slipping in the mud, going to a crouch that had Arthur's second charge cut over his head. Gwaine swiped a foot at Arthur's legs and Arthur promptly stumbled over them hard enough to give Gwaine the chance to straighten again, bringing his left hand to the sword as well. They circled one another, breath fogging between them.

"Doesn't look like much to me," Gwaine said and spit out to the side. The air was freezing on his wet skin, his fingers red on the hilt of the sword while Arthur, playing supreme princeling, wore gloves. Gwaine spread his arms, sword in one hand. "You drag me away from a sure morning shag for this?" he asked. "Pitiful show."

Arthur put down his head and came at him, driving a hard left-right offense that pushed Gwaine back until he half slid off the small training mound towards the castle walls, Arthur's sword pushed to his neck. His nostrils flared with each hard breath.

"Resting, sire?" Gwaine said with an exhale as he pushed at Arthur, bringing up his knee towards Arthur's crotch and connecting with enough force to sprawl Arthur backward into the mud, the sword flying from his hand, mud spraying from around his elbows and arse as he hit the ground. The laugh stuck somewhere in Gwaine's throat at Arthur's boyish indignation. Gwaine tapped the flat of the sword to the inside of Arthur's knees, pushing his legs apart, as he ran a hand through icy, wet hair, breathing through the shiver of cold as the rain rolled past his neckline. "Enough already?" he said, trailing his sword point up Arthur's knee before Arthur pushed it aside with the back of his gloved hand, cursing under his breath, too pretty to be ugly apparently. Gwaine stepped around Arthur and kicked Arthur's sword closer to his body, the hilt smacking into Arthur's hip as he rolled from the blade and picked up the sword on his way back to his feet.

Arthur coughed through the cold. He levelled his sword at Gwaine. "You don't fight like a knight," he huffed out, and let loose another attack. "No clean lines, no discipline."

"Whatever I fight like is good enough to beat you," Gwaine gave back as he parried, letting Arthur step closer and push him back until he ducked under Arthur's blow and let him run into empty space, then turn with hot rage in his face.

Arthur was single-minded in his attack, going all out with speed and strength and the hints of feints that Gwaine had seen executed to perfection on better days but that rang sloppy between them now. The mud did the rest. When Gwaine was panting, Arthur swayed on his feet before he caught himself and launched another set of attacks that ran into thin air twice before the growl of frustration ripped from his throat.

"Whatever I fight like drives you mad," Gwaine added. He watched him, the shoulders tight, arms straining under the hauberk. Gwaine chuckled and it carried through the rain. "Your Father's legacy," Gwaine said, settling his weight on his heels in a show of calm, "sullied in the mud because you love how little we are copies of you."

Arthur's scream ripped through the yard, bouncing off the walls. Gwaine made no attempt to parry the blow Arthur was looking to deliver, only ducked below and caught Arthur around the waist, using strength and rest and surprise to his advantage to throw Arthur off-balance. Arthur's sword dropped with a clatter on Gwaine's as he went down, fingers pinching and teeth snapping, his feet pushing at the mud to find a target for his knees, but Gwaine had him safely pinned, knees digging into the hard muscle of Arthur's thighs, hands pushing Arthur's wrists to the mud.

"You should've begged Merlin for this, he'd have gladly delivered," Gwaine said, lips gracing Arthur's cheek. He kissed him then, playing on a lover's touch.

"Get off me." Arthur bucked underneath him, fingers curled to fists and face drawn with rage. He shuddered, maybe cold, maybe anger, possibly pure exhaustion but Gwaine didn't let go and kept him pressed to the mud.

"Not so smug now," Gwaine said, ignoring Arthur's tense muscles. He leaned forward, nosed at Arthur's mudcaked hair. Arthur tried to pull his limbs free, managing a hand's width either way before Gwaine had caught them securely again. Arthur made an aborted sound, a sob that caught in his chest, chest expanding and tightening rapidly, then he went limp, turned his face to the side. Eyes squeezed close and lips open enough to fog out breathe and draw in air in small, hitching gasps.

Gwaine loosened his hold on one of Arthur's wrists, slowly, and brought his fingers to Arthur's hair, carding through muddy strands and a bit of blond peeking through. He pushed Arthur's chin up with his nose and pressed a kiss to Arthur's throat, just to own the moment. "You're still the prettiest," Gwaine said, voice low. He slipped off Arthur's thighs, relishing Arthur's groan, and pushed a knee to his crotch pressing down. Arthur arched up. "You're prettier than all the girls in Camelot," Gwaine whispered. "And you're just taking it."

Arthur's body tensed and he pushed at Gwaine. Gwaine rolled over easily, caught Arthur's hands before he could land any serious punches. He jumped to his feet as Arthur climbed to his and charged at him, all bare hands, the gloves lost somewhere.

"Get it out then," Gwaine called and took the blow to his gut with something like grace with an edge of instant nausea and toppled Arthur to the ground, only to roll into a stand and crash to the ground again as Arthur went for his legs. Arthur's face was dark with wet earth, mud flying with every movement. Gwaine kept them away from the swords, caught the blows he couldn't ditch and delivered a few himself that only spurred Arthur on.

"Insolent, ungrateful, pissing bastard," Arthur huffed with each blow he delivered.

"Regretting making me a knight now?" Gwaine taunted as he danced away. "Giving me all the honour I don't deserve?" Arthur's fist flew at him in uncoordinated, exhausted spurts. "All a bit much for the little boy now?" Gwaine asked as he landed a blow to Arthur's midsection himself, forcing Arthur to his reserves. "Crying tears in your pillow at night over-"

Arthur flew at him but his blow went wide past Gwaine's shoulder and he propelled them around, half dragging, half pushing Arthur up against the castle wall. "Turning into a dull boy?" Gwaine asked as he brushed at Arthur's hair again, aiming for the sweetest caress and Arthur shuddered underneath him, shoulder blades pressed to cold stone, the chainmail digging in.

Arthur's eyes were wide, his fingers loosely clenched in the wet fabric of Gwaine's trousers. The rain turned into hail briefly and Gwaine held them there as it pelted down on them, shielded Arthur only so much. The tiny specks of white caught in the mud of Arthur's hair and on his eyelashes and he didn't take his eyes off Gwaine, only exhaling shakily when the hail turned to hard rain again.

"Nothing shameful about exhaustion," Gwaine said.

Arthur arched and wriggled and tried his best to get loose and Gwaine held him against the wall, thigh pushed hard to Arthur's crotch, until Arthur stilled again, eyes tightly closed.

"Nothing shameful about giving it up either," Gwaine added and pressed his lips to Arthur's opening them under his, rain-wet and spit-dry as they were.

Arthur turned his face forcefully. "Not- that."

"You shag." Gwaine laughed and rocked his thigh up, relishing Arthur's moan and the hint of betrayed pleasure in his eyes. "Everyone hears you scream the rooms down when Merlin stays longer to assist you with your studies. Or to do any of the other naff things. And he comes back smug, and flushed, and tight-lipped," Gwaine said into Arthur's ear. "Everyone watches when you pull Gwen aside into alcoves when you think no one's around to see."

"I don't kiss men," Arthur ground out.

Gwaine laughed. "Pity," he said and pressed his lips to Arthur's again. He brought one of his hands to Arthur's chin and forced his face around, thumb and index finger digging into Arthur's jaw, forcing his mouth open and he took, tongue and teeth, nipping at Arthur's bottom lip until Arthur rocked up against his body and fucked his mouth like he would any easy girl's or boy's, free fingers dragging along Arthur's throat to tease more of the needy sounds from him.

"You're good," Gwaine said as he pulled away, spit stringing between them until he rubbed it off on Arthur's chin, coating his lips in enough mud that he pressed his mouth to Arthur's again, making them both taste it until Arthur pulled away and spat out to the side. Gwaine pushed his hand up into Arthur's hair and tightened his fingers, letting Arthur pull on it with the next motion to twist away. "You're a good man," Gwaine said to Arthur's bloodshot, sunken eyes.

"I don't need your badly-rehearsed platitudes," Arthur hissed.

Gwaine chuckled. "You only need someone to fuck you hard enough to fall asleep?" he gave back, and when Arthur tensed up to deliver another blow he used the momentum to drag Arthur from the wall and push him under the arch into the castle, leaving the rain outside. The wind dragged over their wet clothes, and Gwaine pushed Arthur up against the wall, wincing in sympathy at the crack of Arthur's chin to the bare stone. Arthur was too sluggish to get his arms up in time and Gwaine twisted one arm up behind his back, using his bigger frame, muscles and, quite frankly, general state of rest thanks to the long days of nothing to do but drill the same routines, to propel them down the corridors. Arthur was kicking out, fingers clawing for Gwaine's face and hand, and they stumbled into a few walls and doors, nearly tipped down a staircase until Gwaine forced Arthur's arm higher and Arthur's pained noises lasted them to Arthur's chambers.

They stumbled in through the door, and the minute Gwaine let go, Arthur wound out of his grip. "I'll have you in the stocks," he said, voice hoarse, hands clenched to fists at his side. His shoulders were heaving with shaky breaths, body trembling as much as Gwaine's was. The fire in Arthur's fireplace was out, dawn brightening the sky through the rain outside the windows.

"Will you?" Gwaine leaned against the door, letting his weight push it shut. His hair was dripping dirty water down his chin and on the stones, adding to the puddle forming from his soaked trousers and tunic. He tugged off the chainmail and dropped it by his feet with a clatter. Arthur watched him, eyes skittish. Gwaine grasped the hem of the tunic and pulled it over his head, exhaling through the flash of uncomfortably wet cold, and dropped it on top of the chainmail.

Arthur's gaze skittered across his body, but he didn't move, didn't say anything. Fingers red with cold, hair making him look bedraggled and too young for this room or the one with the throne, he stood and watched as Gwaine stepped closer and crossed the room. "Will you?" Gwaine asked again when he stood close enough to feel the brush of cold, dirty metal to his chest, Arthur's hardening cock behind his breeches. Arthur pushed his crotch to Gwaine's hip, fingers curling on his waist then sliding off and away at the first touch of skin on skin. Arthur's gaze slipped from Gwaine's eyes and Gwaine watched him for a few moments, fingers tightening and releasing, ribcage expanding, shoulders stiff and unyielding and the hair that sluiced water down Arthur's cheek to drip off Arthur's chin.

"Arthur," Gwaine said, keeping his voice just between them.

Arthur glanced up, away, and Gwaine gripped Arthur's chin then and held him there when Arthur tried to twist away, one hand fisting into the neckline of the chainmail. "Will you put me in the stocks? Or will you let me shag you to sleep?"

"Like hell," Arthur bit out, eyes regaining some of their glow as they fixed on Gwaine. He pushed him away by his shoulder.

The pale morning light came in through the windows behind Arthur. Gwaine cocked his head at Arthur, Arthur with his eyes drooping with exhaustion, and still standing tall, the outline of his cock half hidden by chainmail and cloth. "Kneel," Gwaine said, keeping his voice the same low tone as earlier.

"Like hell," Arthur repeated, fingers clenching, unclenching, huffing out a breath. His gaze slid from Gwaine to the floor between them.

"Kneel," Gwaine repeated and stepped closer. Arthur took a step back before he caught himself. Gwaine chuckled. The play of strength and defiance in Arthur's body made Gwaine almost forgive Arthur the bloody early morning and the robbed morning shag when he could have him instead. "Kneel," he said as he breathed into Arthur's space, crowding him. He took a step forward when Arthur tried to escape to the empty space behind himself, another and another until Arthur's heel connected with the foot of the table. Gwaine moved in, pushing his crotch and hard cock to Arthur's hip. "Why do you fight it?" Gwaine asked, dropping a hand between their bodies as he splayed the other on the table behind Arthur. He exhaled against Arthur's cheek, pressed his lips to the shell of Arthur's ear then dragged the kiss along Arthur's jawline to end at his mouth.

Arthur's brows were furrowed, lines standing out on his muddy face. "Why..." Arthur started, then huffed, frustration spilling out with the breath, "There's no choice," he said. Gwaine pulled back far enough to catch Arthur's gaze and hold it. "I don't have a choice with..." Arthur continued and gestured at himself, the room, the whole bloody castle. He ducked his head. "It's no surprise, I knew from birth that this was my due, that-"

"Kneel," Gwaine said, lips brushing across Arthur's and Arthur's aborted sound caught, then spilled and he sank to his knees in front of Gwaine, head bent, shaggy hair obscuring his face. The drawn-in breath made his shoulders shake. Gwaine tangled his fingers in Arthur's hair and drew his face up. "You're good," he said, and it cost him more than any of this did Arthur maybe. He should have worn the red cloak for this and flown the banner of Camelot and betrayed the rest of most of his miserable existence in useless devotion to a king to be. "You're gorgeous on your knees," Gwaine said, letting his voice rasp over the words.

Arthur bristled under his hand and Gwaine slipped it to the back of Arthur's head and pulled him forward, pressing Arthur's face to the front of his trousers, the line of Arthur's nose pushed against his cock. Gwaine gave a small thrust of his hips and Arthur exhaled hot breath and needy sounds across the fabric tight over Gwaine's crotch. Arthur's fingers curled around Gwaine's thigh, slipping around to the back and pressing in tight just below Gwaine's arse. Arthur pushed back with every motion of Gwaine's hips, rubbing his mud-smeared face on the front of Gwaine's trousers. He opened his mouth without Gwaine ever saying the word, jaws wide and lips thinned as he fitted his mouth around Gwaine's cloth-covered cock, exhaling warm and damp, inhaling with a cold draft. Gwaine kept him there, fingers white on Arthur's skull as he pumped his hips against Arthur's open lips.

Gwaine brushed the hair from Arthur's forehead, then slid his hand lower, over the bridge of Arthur's nose to his lips, dragging his fingertips around Arthur's open mouth. Arthur pulled back only a little, glanced up then away and closed his lips on Gwaine's index finger. He gave a tentative suck around the first knuckle, mouth hot and wet, and Gwaine gave him a moan in return, parsed out prettily that made Arthur's hips jerk. Gwaine chuckled and let him have his fingers, pushing index and middle finger into Arthur's mouth. He rubbed his fingers over Arthur's tongue and the soft flesh underneath, along the rows of teeth and his palate. Arthur's mouth hung open, saliva slipping from Gwaine's fingers down Arthur's chin.

"The prince all dirtied up," Gwaine said as he pushed his fingers to the back of Arthur's tongue, watched him flush red as he gagged on Gwaine's fingers, but he didn't pull away, only dug his fingers harder into Gwaine's thigh as he calmed his breathing. "Look at me," Gwaine said and Arthur obeyed without a question, eyes wet with tears, the first tear tracks cutting a line through the dirt on Arthur's face, saliva glistening on his chin. Fingers in Arthur's mouth, Gwaine rubbed his thumb over Arthur's spit-wet lips and let him play his tongue over Gwaine's fingertips, giving sucks with the smallest imprint of teeth that had Gwaine raise his eyebrows.

Gwaine untangled his hand from Arthur's hair, leaving it in disarray at the back of Arthur's head and opened his trousers, pushing them down to pool around his boots. Arthur's eyes snapped up as he lifted his hand away to let the trousers fall and then, for lack of anywhere else to place them, dropped it to his own lap, giving his cock a squeeze. His gaze flickered to Gwaine's face and back to his cock, half-hard. Gwaine palmed his balls, and pushed his crotch out, cock drawing a line of precome over Arthur's cheek. Arthur made to pull off Gwaine's fingers, mewling sound in the back of his throat. His hand was curled into his crotch, hips jerking into his own touch every other moment. Gwaine forced his fingers deeper and the betrayed, longing look in Arthur's eyes as he gave a half hearted suck made him laugh.

Arthur's gaze slipped to Gwaine's cock resting against his cheek then up to Gwaine's eyes. Two beats, Gwaine stared at Arthur and Arthur stared up at him, eyes wide and blue and just there, the hint of mischief sneaked into them just a moment before Arthur closed his teeth on Gwaine's fingers, biting down hard enough to send a flare of pain down Gwaine's hand. Gwaine pulled his fingers from Arthur's mouth, shifted back and slapped him with enough force to send him sprawling to the floor. Arthur's hand flew to his cheek, outrage creeping in on the heels of initial surprise.

"So desperate to take my cock?" Gwaine asked, pitching his voice low as he reached out and pulled Arthur's leg out from under him, sprawling him completely, Arthur's shoulderblades connecting with the hard stones.

"I could call for my guards and have you brought to the cells-" Arthur spluttered, a hint of pain drawing tight around his eyes but his hand still cradled his crotch and his eyes gave skittish licks to Gwaine's cock hanging from his trousers.

"It doesn't look like you are," Gwaine replied. He knelt down above Arthur, knees pinning Arthur's arms to the floor. The wet chainmail was one of the more uncomfortable things under his arse, but Arthur's breath ghosting over his cock and balls made up for it, as did the blown look in Arthur's eyes. Lips parted, it didn't take much to coax them open further as Gwaine reached down and pushed his cock between them. "Tongue," he said, and Arthur wriggled, clenching his fingers but after a moment he inched his tongue out from pretty pink lips and licked at the head of Gwaine's cock. His eyes closed when he gave the first tentative suck with his lips, moaning when Gwaine pushed his cock deeper into Arthur's mouth.

Gwaine shifted his weight forward, a hand placed well above Arthur's head, the other tangling in Arthur's hair. "Just keep your mouth open," Gwaine said, and chuckled when predictably Arthur tried the trick of teeth on tender flesh and cried out when Gwaine's fingers tightened in his hair to the point of pain. Gwaine fucked his cock in through the moans and the sobs that stole their way out. Arthur gave a splutter when Gwaine went too deep but took it, trying to breathe through it. "So good for this," Gwaine murmured, nails scratching over Arthur's scalp. He pulled his cock out some of the way and pushed it back in with a twist of the hips, going deep enough to make Arthur arch underneath him, hands flying up to Gwaine's thighs, grappling for purchase, but Gwaine didn't let up. Pushed deep, he made thrusts just shallow enough to allow for air and deep enough to cut it off.

Arthur's eyes fluttered behind his lids. He brought his knees up, jamming the heel of his boots to the stone floor, but took it beautifully and when Gwaine told him to open his eyes again, he did, wet with tears, closing to squeeze them out at another deep thrust and opening them again. Gwaine let up, pulling off far enough that Arthur managed to turn his head and cough out saliva and gunk. Gwaine brushed it off the side off his face and guided his cock back in again, thrusting deep immediately under Arthur's gurgling. Grip on the back of Arthur's head, Gwaine fucked his mouth, keeping him in place with his hand and sheer weight.

"You're beautiful," Gwaine whispered to Arthur's blue eyes and Arthur's face drew tight and then smoothed out as he gave it up to Gwaine, fingers slowing to strokes on Gwaine's thighs. He arched his throat for Gwaine to go deeper and Gwaine took that, driving a hard fuck down Arthur's throat, smearing the saliva Arthur spluttered up down his cheeks and chin, watching it catch in his hair. "You're good like this." Arthur's eyes welled with tears again, Gwaine let him have those and the closed eyes and the startled sobs through the fuck which had nothing to do with the strain of his body towards Gwaine's cock.

Gwaine pulled off and settled his weight back on Arthur's chest, closing his fingers on his cock. Arthur's eyes opened to watch him strip his cock, tightening on the downstrokes, squishing through Arthur's spit on it, wet slapping sounds. Arthur's breath came in rasps, still blowing warm air across Gwaine's balls with every exhale, and Gwaine was tempted to defile him completely, make the prince submit to everything for everything he made _them_ want to give like they were his toy army, but this was good for the moment. Arthur's eyes brimming with trust and something stupid like love made Gwaine give a small cry, abort it before it became embarrassing and groan as his body tightened and he came, spurts he angled at Arthur's face, hitting him across closing eyes and the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, some of it dripping over his lips.

"You're ours, aren't you?" Gwaine whispered as he leaned down again and pushed his cock into Arthur's mouth once more, pushing into it with the last jerks of his hips, making Arthur take it with pretty little moans, his tongue twisting along the underside of Gwaine's cock, over the head, and he liked it there, shallow and resting just inside Arthur's lips as his hips twitched a few more times and Arthur groaned whenever it made him tighten his hold on Arthur's hair.

Arthur opened his eyes when Gwaine drew his thumb over Arthur's eyelid, brushing the come to the side, and some of it stuck to Arthur's lid, making him blink rapidly, eyes open and wet. Gwaine pushed his come coated thumb into Arthur's mouth alongside his cock, smearing come to the corner of Arthur's lips. He drew the flat of his palm down Arthur's cheek, spreading come over his skin and when he pulled his soft cock from Arthur's mouth, stringing saliva between them, he gave Arthur two fingers to suck on instead, and Arthur did without a noise or move of protest, lips sweetly closing tongue chasing the taste of Gwaine's come or the taste of mud and battle or whatever he got from his fingers.

Gwaine thrust his fingers in shallowly, slowly, and the wet sounds of Arthur's smacking lips were muted, quiet, almost small. "Good?" Gwaine asked as he tucked his cock back into his trousers.

Arthur's eyes struggled to blink open, the dark shadows under them trying to swallow them whole in sleep. Gwaine pulled his fingers from Arthur's mouth, chuckling at the sound protest and wiped his hand in Arthur's hair, saliva and come and mud mixing in wet paste. He pushed off Arthur's body, kneeling next to him on the stone floor. "Merlin will have my head if I leave you like this," Gwaine said and pulled at the bottom of Arthur's hauberk. Arthur sat up far enough and lifted his arms to let Gwaine pull it off.

"I'm able to undress myself," Arthur offered, a flash of indignation back in sated eyes.

Gwaine chuckled and gave a small smack to the bit of Arthur's stomach he could reach as he pulled his tunic over Arthur's head as well. "Take off your boots and I may be inclined to believe you."

Arthur sat up, swaying and leaning into Gwaine's chest when Gwaine moved close enough to let him, as he struggled out of his boots, frustration in his voice until he pulled his feet free.

"Well done," Gwaine said with a chuckle. As he straightened he pulled Arthur up with him and watched him wobble on his feet. "Go to bed," Gwaine said, tongue twisting on the title he left off and Arthur's face pulled into a half smile as he moved to the bed, managed to crawl atop it and Gwaine pulled off his mud-wet trousers before they soiled too much of the linen.

Arthur rubbed his face on his shoulder as he slipped under the covers. "You won't wash it off?" he said, eyes peeking at Gwaine from underneath dirty blond bangs and above bright red lips.

"No," Gwaine said as he dropped Arthur's trousers and walked around to the bed. "You'll sleep better for it."

Arthur gave a weak nod and half-broken smile as he laid his head down, eyes squinting at Gwaine from the pillow. His fingers inched out from under the covers and fingertips moved across Gwaine's knee, the other hand on his crotch, squeezing at himself. "I try to be good enough for you," he said, and it caught in Gwaine's chest even as Arthur's breath evened out to sleep and his fingers went slack. Despoiled and dirty and used, and Arthur had never looked more the man to lead them all.

Gwaine huffed to himself, ran a hand over his face and through his hair and went to pick up his wet tunic from the spot by the door. He did up his breeches half-heartedly, chanced another look at Arthur sleeping and slipped out the door.

The first of Camelot were awake, the morning runs of a few servants and the first smells from the kitchen wafting through the corridors. Gwaine nodded at a few men and women he met walking under arches and down stairs, chuckling at their surprise at his naked chest and general state of dishevelment. He slipped back into his quarters quietly, pulling the door into the lock behind him, and pushed off trousers and boots. The red cloak glared at him from the corner, and he left it there, for the moment, as he crawled back into bed, pushing cold feet to Percival's and moving up close to his back, resting his face against the nape of Percival's neck.

"Arthur's asleep?" Percival asked, voice heavy and Gwaine made an affirmative noise.

They'd have half the day off with any luck before Arthur would call them to play in the mud again because they were Knights of Camelot now. The rain would probably let up over the day, already now the light was the palest gray inching through under the door.


End file.
